


Yellow Carnations

by RowanKayWho



Series: Love is the Flower You've Got to Let Grow [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Crying, Disappointment, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanKayWho/pseuds/RowanKayWho
Summary: Yellow carnations: Disdain, disappointment.The one in which Oikawa is disappointed in himself after Aoba Johsai loses to Shiratorizawa.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Series: Love is the Flower You've Got to Let Grow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121039
Kudos: 19





	Yellow Carnations

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read the first work in this series: White Clovers! I'm having fun writing these, so I hope you continue to enjoy them. I do have notes for about 1-2 more, one of which might be more than one chapter in length, but we'll see what happens.
> 
> My work is not beta-read, so please be nice about any mistake I made! Comments and kudos are appreciated, however, if you have nothing nice to say about my work, please don't say anything. Please do not repost my work on any other platform. If you happen to see my work anywhere else, it is not me so let me know! I'm not sure if I'm actually supposed to say this, but I don't own these characters.

Sweat dripped down all the player’s faces as the fifth set continued far beyond the point range anyone expected. Although Shiratorizawa was the favourite to win, Aoba Johsai wasn’t going down without a fight. However, as the day continued and it became later in the afternoon, both teams began getting desperate. Ushiwaka’s spikes seemed to hit the ground harder, while Oikawa’s serves and Iwaizumi’s spikes seemed to move faster. The accuracy of both teams significantly decreased as well, evident by the increased number points scored from small mistakes neither team would have made if it had still been the first set.

Shiratorizawa was in the lead with 23 points, while Aoba Johsai trailed behind at 22. It would only take one more point for the former to claim victory and that’s exactly what happened. Oikawa’s serve had been perfect, but so had the other team’s receive. The resulting rally was laced with desperation and fatigue, leaving Oikawa to tiredly make a near-impossible set for Iwaizumi. All he could do was watch as the set — his set — sent the ball a little too high and a little too close to the net as Iwaizumi pushed himself to jump as high as he could to effectively spike.

The game ended in slow motion as the spike ricocheted off the three man block composed of Ushiwaka and two of Shiratorizawa’s most powerful blockers. With a resounding thud, the ball fell onto the floor and onto Aoba Johsai’s side. They had tried to keep the ball in the air, but their efforts were fruitless in the end.

Loud cheers erupted from Shiratorizawa’s student body while those from Aoba Johsai hung their heads in defeat. After shaking hands, the players all slowly made their way off the court and back to the bench where their coach spared a few encouraging words. She was there, too, as their manager, but there was only one person she was worried about at the moment. Although Oikawa put in a brave face as the team’s captain, she could see the disappointment and regret in his eyes. He was blaming himself for their loss.

The subsequent bus ride back to Aoba Johsai and the walk to their homes were quiet. Even when it was just Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and herself left, no one spoke. There was nothing left to say. If she told them they did their best, they’d claim they could have done better. If she told them there was always next year, they’d respond that they’d still have to face Shiratorizawa in the finals. And, if she said that no one blamed them for the loss, they’d scoff in her face and blame themselves anyway. So, she said nothing but a small goodbye when Iwaizumi turned onto his street... at least until her and Oikawa were at her house. He always made sure she got home okay and today was no exception.

“Tooru, come inside.” She said softly, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him inside behind her.

The door closed behind them with a soft click as they moved further into the house. It was only the two of them since, once again, her father was on a business trip. He had given her a small bouquet of yellow carnations, which now sat on a small table in the hallway as an apology, but she was used to it at this point and wholly unaffected. She stopped needing his company a long time ago.

Oikawa dragged his feet as they entered her room. Numbly, he stood in the doorframe as she released his hand and rested hers on his shoulders. Her fingers nimbly undid the zipper of his Aoba Johsai sports jacket and slowly pushed it off his shoulders. It fell off him unceremoniously, just as the ball that scored the final point of the game did. And, just like at that moment, Oikawa flinched at the sound.

With a sigh, she caressed his face and forced him to look at her. His eyes glistened with tears as he tried to stay strong. She wasn’t exactly sure who he was trying to stay strong for, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

“You did your best,” she whispered, “You all did your best. You trained hard. You worked hard. You played hard. You did good, Tooru. You were perfect.”

A tear slipped out of his eyes, followed by another and another until he moved her hands from his face and hugged her to cry into the crook of her neck. His body shook as he cried, leaving a trail of wet tears along the side of her neck down to her collarbone. She hugged him back tightly, holding the fabric of his sweat-soaked jersey in her fists.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled, lips moving against the bare skin of the junction where her neck met her shoulder. They were soft as ever, if not a little wet from his tears. “It’s just not fair.”

She moved her hand into his hair, gently playing with the small pieces that sat at the nape of his neck. Despite the intense game, it was still soft and fluffy as if he just finished doing it for the day. The strands twirled between her fingers as she combed through it gently, humming a tune as he continued to calm down.

Oikawa sighed in something akin to contentment as his tears finally came to a stop and his breathing slowed. He untangled himself from her and gently pulled away to look at her. The pale skin around his normally bright eyes were red, as were his eyes themselves. Tear tracks stained his rosy cheeks all the way down to his chin. And, as if completing his look, a frown adorned his face. It broke her heart.

“How about you take a shower while I get some food ready? I bought some more of those bath bombs you introduced me to — the red ones that smell like roses. They’re in the linen cupboard behind the door.” She asked, sending him a small smile.

He gave her a sad, but grateful, smile as he nodded. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “I’ll let my mom know I’m spending the night here.”

She nodded in acknowledgment, already pulling his spare clothes out of the top drawer of her dresser. At the start of their relationship, he had showered her in more meaningful gifts than she’d ever imagined receiving from anyone. Up until now, she had been used of receiving items whenever someone wanted her forgiveness or needed something, but never as an act of love. The feeling always left her warm and happy, and she couldn’t get enough of it. So, being the attentive boyfriend he is, once Oikawa noticed that he gave her a gift which doubled as the mark of relationship in the 21st century: his clothes.

It started with an old pair of track pants and a worn hoodie, but quickly became a collection of pyjamas, loungewear, and his spare volleyball jacket. Now, she had a whole dresser drawer dedicated to him, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, this went both ways. He, too, had a drawer dedicated to her and complete with an oversized sweatshirt even he could fit into. It was small gestures and quirks of their relationship like this that made her fall in love with him all over again.

That, and his constant presence. With him, she was never alone and that, in and of itself, was remarkable.

Oikawa didn’t spend too much time in the bathroom, but he was just long enough for her to get everything prepared for their night inside. By the time he exited, smelling distinctly of the rose-scented bath bomb, the food was spread over a wood television tray and her bed had been singlehandedly turned into a blanket fort. The latter was even complete with a projector shining up at the ceiling and fairly lights twinkling by the headboard to dimly illuminate the room.

A gasp left his mouth as he took in the sight in front of him, glancing around the room, careful not to miss a single detail. He looked at her, a vulnerable smile on his lips, as his eyes shined with tears once again. “For me?”

“Always. Now come on,” she patted the seat beside her, “These movies won’t watch themselves.”


End file.
